


Mixtape

by LaufeiaEvans



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, mixtapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaufeiaEvans/pseuds/LaufeiaEvans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire makes a mixtape. Enjolras finds it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixtape

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at like 4 in the morning while listening to [this playlist](http://8tracks.com/valonqarth/apollo) on 8tracks.

R

Mix tapes were never one of Grantaire’s specialties. He liked music, sure; didn’t everyone? But the idea of creating your own playlist and making a tape out of it had never really appealed to him.  
That is, until he met Enjolras.  
The whole sequence of events was confusing and a bit overwhelming, but suffice it to say, he fell in love. And suddenly, he thought as he sat up at three in the morning, drunkenly arranging a CD of Songs For Apollo, he could understand the concept.  
No one had to know. None of the Amis, least of all Enjolras, ever needed to see this. It was his own drunken guilty pleasure, for his ears only.  
That plan lasts about twenty minutes before Courfeyrac walks in on him drunk, sobbing, and singing along to Relient K in the middle of the night.  
“If this is how you’re going to be, you might as well just leave now.”  
Grantaire simply nods, dragging himself out of bed. He can hardly blame Courf; from what he can tell, he’s been insufferable in the past few weeks. Besides, he sees Jehan behind Courfeyrac in the doorway, and he has a nagging feeling that he’d have been kicked out anyway.  
Making sure to snatch up the CD to prevent Courf from getting nosy, Grantaire leaves Courfeyrac’s apartment in search of another place to sleep. (He’s been meaning to get his own place for a while, but never got around to it; besides, he’s got plenty of connections with people perfectly capable of housing him.) He’s just about to settle for sleeping in an alleyway when—just his luck—none other than Enjolras himself steps out of the shadows and stares at him.  
“What are you doing out here?”  
Not even a ‘hello.’ Grantaire laughs in spite of himself.  
“I was going to sleep.”  
“In an alleyway?” says Enjolras, sounding appalled.  
“So it would seem.” Grantaire’s left arm curls protectively around the CD hidden in his jacket. The last thing he wants is Enjolras even catching a glimpse of the thing.  
Enjolras pauses for a moment, mulling this over. Grantaire watches him, taking another drink from the bottle still in his hand. Finally, Enjolras sighs, looking back at Grantaire.  
“I’ve got a couch, you know.”  
Grantaire barks a laugh. “That’s nice of you and all, but I wouldn’t want to-“  
“Seriously,” Enjolras says, already sounding like he regrets this decision. He runs a hand absentmindedly through his already-messy hair. “It’s not a problem. I’d feel awful if I let you stay here.”  
Grantaire isn’t sure if that’s pity or genuine concern in Enjolras’s voice, but frankly, he’s too drunk to care. And, truth be told, anything is better than sleeping on concrete. So he agrees, and after dragging himself up from the ground and tucking the CD further into his jacket, he follows Enjolras back to his apartment.

E

Given the man’s typical state of drunken apathy, Grantaire’s current position curled into the corner of a dark alleyway hardly comes as a surprise to Enjolras. And, given the man’s typical state of drunken apathy, helping him is hardly a top priority for Enjolras. However, for God knows what reasons, this time is different. Seeing him attempt to literally sleep on the streets, Enjolras finds himself feeling something not unlike pity for Grantaire. At least, that’s what he tells himself when he impulsively invites Grantaire to spend the night on his couch. He pities him, of course. And what kind of person would he be if he left him here?  
They arrive at the apartment and Enjolras ushers Grantaire inside, flipping on the lights. Grantaire flinches, but he says nothing.  
“So, erm,” Enjolras gestures to the couch. “You could sleep here, if you like.”  
Grantaire nods. “That sounds great.”  
“Alright,” he agrees. “Erm, would you like to borrow some pajamas, or…?”  
Grantaire laughs. “That’s quite alright. Thank you, though.”  
“‘Course,” Enjolras says absently. “Well, make yourself at home, I suppose.”  
As Grantaire settles in on the couch, a thought strikes Enjolras. “You know,” he says, and Grantaire looks up at him inquisitively. Enjolras clears his throat. “You’re welcome here any time. If, you know…you need a place to stay.”  
Grantaire looks at him strangely, but nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  
“Alright,” Enjolras agrees. “Goodnight, then.”  
Grantaire mumbles a quick “G’night” before presumably passing out on the couch. Enjolras takes a moment to marvel at his own awkwardness before heading off to bed himself.

The next morning, Enjolras finds his couch empty, with no sign at all that Grantaire had been there save for a single rumpled blanket draped over the arm of the couch.  
At first, he’s angry that Grantaire left without even leaving a note. But it occurs to him that perhaps he was so drunk he didn’t remember where he was, and so it’s hardly Enjolras’s position to blame him. And as he gathers up the blanket to throw it in the laundry, he notices something Grantaire left behind.  
It’s a CD case, plain and unlabeled, presumably with a CD inside. Enjolras briefly considers opening it, but he figures he really shouldn’t be snooping (and besides, it’s Grantaire’s—the music is probably awful) so he decides against it. Instead, he takes it back to his bedroom and sits it on top of his nightstand, planning to return it to Grantaire as soon as possible.

That night, Enjolras returns home after class to find Grantaire already asleep on his couch. He smiles in spite of himself and, without really thinking about it, pulls a blanket down over him before continuing back to his own bedroom.

R

Sleeping on Enjolras’s couch soon becomes a regular thing, and before long Grantaire finds himself keeping extra sets of clothes in a duffel bag to bring with him. If Enjolras notices, he doesn’t say anything, and he also doesn’t seem to mind.  
He’d lost the CD he made somewhere in the shuffle that first night. But Enjolras doesn’t mention it, and as he is unable to work up the nerve to ask, Grantaire is left to assume—or hope—that it got lost on the street somewhere and was never found.  
They still argue, of course; about pretty much everything from politics to proper egg-making techniques. But overall it seems they communicate more in general. Enjolras actually smiles at him periodically, and even acknowledges him during meetings beyond telling him to shut up. On a good day, Grantaire might go as far as calling them friends.  
Of course, he has to ruin it eventually.  
To his credit, he doesn’t completely ruin the relationship they’ve developed, but he does put a bit of a damper on it. It starts when Enjolras arrives home before he has a chance to fall asleep.  
“Oh, hey,” Enjolras says when he sees Grantaire. “You’re still up for once.”  
“Yeah,” Grantaire murmurs in agreement.  
Staring at him quizzically, Enjolras asks something that has clearly been bothering him for a while.  
“Isn’t it uncomfortable sleeping on the couch all the time?”  
Grantaire laughs. “Yeah, a bit, I guess,” he admits. “But it’s better than the pavement.”  
Enjolras nods, biting his lip. “You know,” he says, almost hesitantly. “My bed’s big enough for two.”  
He looks up at Grantaire, inviting him to respond. Grantaire is shocked. After all, it’s not every day that the love of your life literally invites you to sleep with him.  
“Um…” he says, for a moment seriously considering it. Enjolras’s bed is probably warm; even more so with Enjolras in it…  
No, that’s probably a terrible idea. True, Enjolras had suggested it, but knowing him he probably just thinks it’s common courtesy to invite a casual friend who’s crashing in your apartment on a regular basis to sleep in your bed.  
“Um…I don’t…I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he decides. Enjolras nods.  
“Oh,” he says, and he seems almost disappointed. “Oh, I see. I understand.” He forces a smile, and suddenly Grantaire thinks maybe he should have accepted the offer.  
“Sorry,” he says instead.  
“No, I…I get it. It’s fine.” Enjolras makes his way back to his own room. “I’ll, erm, I’ll see you at breakfast, then.”  
Grantaire half-smiles. Enjolras had been making breakfast for the two of them since around the third time he stayed. It was a habit Grantaire teased him about, though he secretly loved it.  
“Yeah, I’ll see you,” he says halfheartedly.  
Once Enjolras is out of earshot, Grantaire lets out a loud groan and falls back onto the couch. He had just passed up the chance to share a bed with Enjolras, an arrangement which he had decided was at least ten times better than his current one.  
And, from the looks of it, would never be offered to him again.

E

After Grantaire declines his offer to share the bed, Enjolras finds himself with an odd sense of disappointment. This confuses him, of course. Hadn’t he made the offer out of pity for R? How would it benefit him in any way to have R sleep in his bed rather than on the couch? By all logic, it wouldn’t.  
So why is he so upset?  
The answer comes to him the next day in the form of an envelope slipped under his front door.  
Early in the morning, while Grantaire is still asleep, he finds an anonymous, unlabeled envelope on the floor. Instantly curious, he opens it to find a CD similar to Grantaire’s—the one he had forgotten to return.  
Deciding that he’ll worry about that later, Enjolras opens the case, finding an unmarked CD and a small note.  
E,  
Had Jehan help me make this. Figured it’s something you could use.  
-Courf  
Now intensely curious, he hurries back to the stereo in his bedroom, desperate to figure out the meaning behind this “gift.” He slips the CD in and hits “play”…  
…and is instantly greeted by the voice of Jesse McCartney.  
Now even more confused than before—because the fact that he even knows this song is pure coincidence, and this is absolutely not the kind of music he listens to—he begins to skip through the rest of the tracks. Most of them he knows, a few he doesn’t, but every single one of them has to do with unrequited love.  
And somehow, instantly, he knows it’s meant to be about Grantaire.  
He’s on the phone with Courf in an instant, intending to yell at him, or demand an explanation, or something, but as the phone rings he realizes something. He understands why he took Grantaire in that day, why he kept letting him come back, why he’s been so concerned for the other man’s well-being.  
He understands why he was so upset that Grantaire wasn’t interested in sleeping with him.  
Courfeyrac picks up after a while, and Enjolras can only bring himself to say one thing.  
“I’m in love with him, aren’t I?”  
He can practically hear the smile in Courfeyrac’s voice.  
“And the penny drops!”  
Before he has a chance to respond, though, Enjolras notices a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He turns around to see Grantaire standing in the doorway, staring at him like a deer in headlights.  
“Grantaire…” he says quietly, forgetting the phone in his hand. But Grantaire walks away without a word.  
“Everything okay?” Courf says from the other end of the line.  
“I’ll call you back,” Enjolras says quickly, and hangs up without waiting for a reply.  
“R, wait!” he calls after Grantaire, though he isn’t sure why, or what made him run off like that. He doesn’t get a chance to find out, though, because by the time he gets to the front room, Grantaire is out the front door.  
He sighs deeply, hanging his head in defeat. It takes a moment to process what just happened, and he isn’t sure about many of the details. But he does know one thing.  
“I’m in love with him.”  
Saying it out loud somehow makes it more true, more unavoidable. He’s in love with Grantaire, plain and simple. It’s such a complex emotion, yet it seems so…easy.  
One more thing he knows for sure: he can’t let Grantaire leave. He paces the distance from his bedroom to the front door, wracking his brains to think of a solution. Or, at least, a theory on where R actually is. He determines that he might be at Courfeyrac’s, but aside from that, he thinks of nothing.  
Defeated, Enjolras slumps down onto his bed, on the verge of tears. The CD still plays in the background, and he decides that he doesn’t want to hear any of it. On impulse, he grabs the nearest object and hurls it at the stereo.  
It just so happens that the nearest object is Grantaire’s CD.  
Immediately, Enjolras leaps from the bed to retrieve the CD from the floor. Luckily, it isn’t broken, but it did fall out of its case. As he retrieves the case from where it fell behind the stereo, he notices a small label on the face of the CD itself.  
“Apollo,” it reads.  
His face flushes. His little-known nickname is probably the last thing he would have thought Grantaire would put on a CD.  
But now, he’s interested. Since it’s named after him, does that mean it’s about him? And, technically, doesn’t that give him the right to listen to it?  
No, his common sense tells him, but he’s too intrigued to listen. Slowly, he ejects the CD from Courfeyrac and inserts Grantaire’s instead.

R

Grantaire didn’t have a destination in mind when he ran from Enjolras’s apartment; all he knew was that he needed to leave, to get away from E, maybe for good. He didn’t realize how much he hated pining for Enjolras until he overheard him confess his love for someone else. Up until now, he’d believed that Enjolras just didn’t love anyone. He loved France, and her people as a whole, and that was it. But now…  
He runs faster, fighting back tears. He realizes vaguely that he’s somehow on his way to the Musain, which only hurts him more; the Musain, the place where he and Enjolras first met.  
Where he’d found something to believe in.  
Unable to fight anymore, he slides into an alleyway—the same one, actually, where he’d tried to sleep that night—and settles with his face in his lap. He doesn’t cry; he doesn’t do anything. He just sits there with the weight of it all upon him.  
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he lifts his head up and looks around him. Judging from the light, it’s nearly midday, and he’s beginning to get hungry. Knowing he can’t go back to Enjolras’s, he goes for his next best option: Courfeyrac.  
Gathering himself up and regaining some of his composure, he continues walking until he reaches the familiar apartment building. Numbly, he ascends the stairs and manages to reach the right front door. It’s unlocked, so he lets himself in.  
“Hello there?” calls a very confused Courfeyrac from the back room.  
“Just me,” responds Grantaire as best he can. His voice isn’t cooperating with him at the moment.  
“R?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Oh, that’s fine then. C’mon in.”  
“Thanks.” He invites himself into the kitchen and begins preparing a small breakfast.  
After a few minutes, Courfeyrac comes out to check on him.  
“Everything alright?”  
“S’fine,” Grantaire says weakly, not looking at him.  
“Are you sure?”  
“I’m fine,” he says again.  
Courfeyrac’s response is cut off by a loud knock on the door. He answers it, and Enjolras’s voice reaches Grantaire. He pales and stops what he’s doing.  
“R!” Enjolras calls after him, and Grantaire hears approaching footsteps behind him.  
“Don’t,” he warns.  
Enjolras pauses. “I…I have something for you,” he tries again.  
Grantaire slowly turns around and sees Enjolras holding a white CD case.  
His CD.  
He instantly snatches it from Enjolras’s hands, not even bothering to be polite. “Did you listen to it?” he asks in a shaky voice. He dares a glance at Enjolras, who nods.  
Unable (or unwilling) to face this right now, he moves to leave, but Enjolras grabs his arm with a surprisingly strong grip, holding him in place.  
“R…”  
“R, what?” he spits, whirling around to face Enjolras.  
Enjolras responds by lunging forward and crashing their lips together.  
Caught completely off guard, Grantaire stands stock-still, eyes wide with shock. Enjolras pulls back briefly to whisper, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, but…” and then he’s kissing Grantaire again, and Grantaire’s ready for it this time—he pulls Enjolras in, arms encircling his waist. Enjolras moans softly, and damn if that isn’t the best thing he’s ever heard.  
Breathless, Grantaire reluctantly pulls back for air. “I don’t understand,” he gasps, leaning his forehead against Enjolras’s.  
“It was you,” Enjolras explains, and he’s just as breathless as Grantaire. He kisses him again, murmuring against his lips, “it was always you.”  
“I love you,” Grantaire whispers.  
Enjolras draws back, smiling at him. “I love you, too.” He gives him another quick peck on the lips before adding, “Let’s go finish this back home.”  
“Please do!” shouts Courfeyrac from the other room, causing both of them to burst out laughing.  
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Grantaire sighs. He smiles softly at Enjolras. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
